


A Lesson in Body Language

by sconesandtextingandmurder



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 22:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sconesandtextingandmurder/pseuds/sconesandtextingandmurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before long, two women were standing at Dean’s side.  <em>Of course they were.</em>  He stopped himself from rolling his eyes.  <em>This is what happens when I’m not even trying.</em>  “Yeah?” he grunted, barely looking up. </p>
<p> “Excuse me.  Is that guy famous?  Are you, like, his bodyguard or something?”  The blonde’s eyes were wide with excitement while the brunette chewed on the little straw from her drink.  They were both staring at Cas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lesson in Body Language

He slouched against the bar fiddling with his phone, leaving Cas to look available and approachable.  It wasn’t going to be easy for Dean Winchester to deflect female attention, but tonight was all about playing wingman for his friend. He was searching his mind for some sort of wingman/wing/angel joke that Cas would neither get nor appreciate when he noticed the angel standing rigidly as a soldier at attention.  Which didn’t exactly scream _come talk to me._   

 

“Would you relax?” Dean hissed at him and Cas turned his blue gaze on him.  Jesus, that was unnerving, like x-ray vision or something.  Dean was half-convinced he could look over his shoulder and see those two beams on the back wall, having blazed right through him. He broke eye contact and turned back to his phone screen.

 

Before long, two women were standing at Dean’s side.  Of _course_ they were.  He stopped himself from rolling his eyes.  _This is what happens when I’m not even trying_.  “Yeah?” he grunted, barely looking up. 

 

“Excuse me.  Is that guy famous?  Are you, like, his bodyguard or something?”  The blonde’s eyes were wide with excitement while the brunette chewed on the little straw from her drink.  They were both staring at Cas.

 

Dean gave his friend an appraising look.   He took in the dark hair that always looked professionally tousled, the sharp line of his jaw, and of course those ridiculous blue eyes.  The way Cas stood was an old habit, Dean knew, leaving room for his wings, but it wasn’t a stretch to interpret it as a reserve that accompanied celebrity.  _Yeah, this could totally work_.  He turned back to the women.

 

“He’ll be thrilled that you recognized him.  And don’t be fooled…he’s actually sort of shy.”  The women smiled at each other.  The blond ran both hands through her hair, lifting the length of it off her shoulders before smoothing it down while the brunette strategically re-arranged her neckline.   “Go get him, ladies.”

 

They approached Cas who, truth be told, looked a little alarmed. Dean had seen that look on his face before and knew he was thinking of his wings and wishing he could deploy them.  Not in a show-offy peacock way, but in a clear-out-the-room way.  _He just needs to relax_ , Dean thought, _he'll be fine_.

 

The women more than made up for the angel’s reticence, animatedly chatting with him.  Well, perhaps _at_ him would be a better description.  Cas wasn’t good at dividing his attention so when he looked at one of them for too long, the other would tug on his sleeve or put a hand on his arm to attract his notice.  

 

Dean checked the time.  This place was loud, he’d limited himself to just a couple of beers, and his memory foam mattress was beckoning like a siren’s call.  He tried to gauge how much longer this might take.  Obviously Cas couldn’t bring a woman back to the bunker, so that meant he’d end up at one of their places.  Which meant Dean might need to go pick him up in a few hours. Unless he decided to spend the night.  Funny, that possibility hadn't occurred to Dean until just now.  Mental images materialized of Cas slowly waking up, blue eyes soft and sleepy, hair giving new meaning to the term bedhead.  He saw a bare shoulder partially covered by a crisp white sheet...

 

_Where the hell had that come from?_

 

He gave his head a little shake as if to clear his mind like an etch-o-sketch and looked furtively over at Cas.  Mind reading was as ludicrous as x-ray vision, he was telling himself, when   Cas chose that exact moment to turn and lock eyes with him.  Dean did his best not to flinch.  “Could I speak to you for a moment, Dean?”

 

“Excuse us, ladies.  We’ll just be a moment.”  Dean pulled himself together and flashed them a winning smile since Cas seemed only capable of scowling, his squint reaching dangerous levels.  They walked to the hallway that led to the restrooms and Dean leaned against the wall with what he hoped was an encouraging look.  “You’re doing great, man!  Having fun?”

 

“I know this is important to you, Dean, but I am finding it to be exhausting.”  Wait, _to me?_ Dean thought, as Cas continued.  “The noise is an assault on my sensitive hearing and I don’t understand why anyone would consider this a good way to get to know another person.” 

 

Dean was about to instruct him on the finer points of simply nodding and smiling in these situations, but Cas wasn’t done.

 

“Also, I think these women could benefit from your lecture on personal space.  And is there something wrong with my coat?  Is there dirt on it?  I feel as if they are attempting to… _groom_ me.”

 

Dean bit his tongue so he wouldn’t laugh.  The vast chasm between Castiel’s knowledge and his understanding was a never-ending source of amusement, but Dean knew it made Cas self-conscious so he did his best to explain.

 

“They do all that—the standing so close, the unnecessary touching—to show you that they’re interested, that they’re open to your advances.  It’s a body language thing.”

 

Dean watched as Cas processed this information, identifying the moment it made sense when his frown gave way to a clear-eyed, determined look.

 

The volume in the hallway was considerably lessened, they could speak here without raising their voices over the music, but that didn’t stop Cas from leaning in, a hand on Dean’s shoulder, his lips brushing delicately but unmistakably against his ear.  “Thank you, Dean.  I understand now.”

 

He leaned back, stubble whispering against stubble, his hand smoothing a non-existent wrinkle from Dean’s collar.  As Dean watched, Cas slowly trailed his hand down Dean’s arm, the thumb running over his bicep.

 

Dean blinked fast, a tingle spreading down his spine.  He didn’t realize his mouth was open until he swallowed hard. 

 

Either Cas had just pulled off a brilliant joke…

 

(He looked at the angel for a raised eyebrow or a _gotcha_ smile but all he got was that same steady gaze and the slightest dip of his chin serving as punctuation.)

 

Or…

 

They stood there, not touching.  A moment later a woman pushed past them on her way to the bathroom. 

 

“jesus, you two.  Get a room.”

 

Dean’s mind whirred.  There were clearly decisions to be made.  He decided to focus on making just one:  Operation Wingman was officially off.  Still looking at Cas, he tipped his head towards the exit.  Cas nodded and together they walked out the back door into the quiet of the cold night air.

 

 

 


End file.
